


Pomegranate Seeds

by Paersephone



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Ficlet, Grieving, Healing, Master of Death (Harry Potter), Master of Death Harry Potter, Romance, Time Travel, Time Travellers, Time Turner, small fanfic, this doesn't end well, tomione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23517583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paersephone/pseuds/Paersephone
Summary: Hermione finds herself entrusted with the Hallows and someone's quest of power throws her in a never-ending dance.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is actually my first long-ish story written in English. Sorry if anything feels wrong - English is not my native language but I finally feel comfortable enough, after years of learning and reading, to actually write something I'm kind of proud of.
> 
> A special thank you to Colubrina that is my Tomione hero and go. read. her. fanfics if you haven't done so already. I will link some at the end of this 3-part ficlet. This work is already finished so I'll post it every monday for three weeks (well, only two to go now). 
> 
> Please enjoy and don't hesitate to leave a review if you have anything to say about this smol thing of mine. Stay safe and stay home if you can!

"I have no reason to be there."

If Death had been able to smirk, she would have. Her head tilted to the side, she considered Hermione for a moment. Then, in her raspy voice, she whispered, "Me neither."

"I don't care," Hermione retorted frostily. "About anything, anymore. How -" her hands clenched the bloody fabric of her trousers, feeling the dried blood beneath her fingers.

"You're my mistress now. I've never had a master or a mistress before."

"I don't want it. Any of it. Those do not belong to me."

Death glanced down at the three Hallows. The Cloak was crumpled, the Wand was covered in blood, and the Stone was hidden beneath the Cloak.

"They do, now."

Hermione glared at Death, and then glared at the Void around her. Black and red, all around. They were sitting on black grass, and the dark red sky was looming above them, cold, unforgiving.

Hermione hated all of it, but not nearly as much as she hated the place she came from.

" _Do it, before he - I am one, too, Hermione, FUCK, do it now!"_

She had understood, even before his green eyes had turned to red.

She shook her head, unwilling to go through these memories - if ever, and focused back on Death and her long cloak and her skeletal hands.

"What does it imply?" she asked, curiosity taking over.

"Everything."

"What do you even mean?"

"You can do anything you want."

"What if I don't want to do anything."

"Then don't," Death shrugged, unconcerned. "I can keep busy. Obviously."

"Obviously," Hermione repeated. She didn't understand any of it, and she felt oh so tired and just wanted to sleep and to let slumber wash it all away -

"I'd quite like to rest, please," she asked, her voice not trembling but almost.

Death conjured her a bed from the void. She lied down and slept for a decade.

* * *

"How has everything gone? I feel like I have slept for ages."

"You have, Mistress," Death said, a hint of dark humour behind her metallic intonations. "You slept for about nine years and a half."

"I have what?" Hermione asked, flabbergasted.

"Just what I said. Time doesn't affect you anymore. It doesn't affect this place. Everything dies, we do not. Until something or someone takes my Hallows from you - or until you choose to die."

Hermione considered the idea for a minute, and Death shook her head, almost sadly.

"I would not pick such a choice, however. Not until you have found some peace. Dying now would just make you a spirit, chasing happiness forever. Better keep your powers for a while and deal with the, ah - problems you have now, than end it and not be able to do a single thing about it."

"I cannot find peace."

Her tone was final and she wanted to crawl and go back to sleep and just _disappear._ "I shouldn't even be here. Nothing belongs to me here. I don't want to. I just -"

She sat in the void and sighed. Tears pricked her eyes and her voice was shaky when she spoke again.

"I want to go back. In time. See things I have only read about in books. The future is worthless anyway and I - I don't even want to know what happened to all of them. I have lost too much."

"Where do you want to go, Mistress?"

She considered her options at length. It took her almost a day and a night to come up with a choice, and when she did, it felt _right_ somehow. She looked at the dark field around her, barely enlightened by the red sky, and wished some flowers could just appear, just to brighten a bit the landscape. Just as she thought that, dozens of pale white flowers came into existence, gently and as if they had always been here.

"This does look nice, I guess," Death said from behind her.

Hermione didn't jump. Her fear had been altered in this place somehow. Only sorrow remained, apparently. But weirdly she felt at peace here, as if in stasis ; it seemed that something had put a lid on her worst memories. They were still there, but faded, as if they had belonged to someone else.

"Greece," she said without looking at death, her eyes trained on the flowers at her feet. She picked one between her fingers and it growed suddenly, blossoming in her palm, before getting back to its original form and reattaching itself to the ground where Hermione dropped it. "Ancient Greece."

"Very well. Here," Death materialised a fancy bracelet, black and silver, which matched her wrist size and was almost unnoticeable. "To come back. Or to get help. Just place your hand on it with the intent to get help and I'll be here."

Hermione nodded and placed the bracelet to her wrist. Death waved her hand and a peplos and a robe appeared instead of her rumpled battle clothes, for which she felt grateful for a second. She would never want to see those clothes again.

The wool felt light against her skin, and Death considered her for a moment before waving her hand again. A silver circlet made of snakes entwined together appeared on her head, clasping her hair into submission. A silver brooch hold her robe together and sandals appeared at her feet. Hermione inclined her head in thanks and slipped her wands - both the Elder Wand and her good old vine wood wand - into her robe, hidden.

Death vanished the Cloak then. Hermione hissed, furious that one of Harry's most prized possession would disappear like that, but Death tutted and if she'd had eyes to roll, they would have rolled _hard_.

"Don't be stupid. As if I would destroy one of my - well, now yours - most treasured possessions. It's in my void. It would hardly be discreet, what with the way they dressed back then, to carry the Cloak around. Now you just make the move, as if you'd cloak yourself - here, I'll show you —"

Death made a fluid movement, as if she was putting an imaginary fabric over her head, and disappeared.

"Oh," Hermione said, finally catching on. "Handy, that."

"Indeed," Death sniffed delicately. "Furthermore, you cannot lose it. One of the perks of being able to gather all three Hallows, I suppose. Just move like I've just shown you and the Cloak will appear out of the void."

"I see."

"Here," Death said after a few seconds. "One last thing. A parting present."

She materialised a necklace, almost unnoticeable, with a stone attached to it.

The Stone.

"No," Hermione said automatically. "I don't want it."

"It might get lonely there. And… I've heard that closure is important."

"Closure will not happen. Not ever," Hermione said grimly. "How could it? All the things I have seen… No, I don't want it. Don't make me take it. Please."

Death considered for a long moment but Hermione didn't back down and Death sighed before putting the Stone away.

"Fine. Off you go, then."

Hermione raised an eyebrow but said nothing and then she felt as if she _faded_ and everything turned dark and bright. Such brightness she hadn't seen for a decade now.

The sun was glowing high above her head in a cloudless sky, and the seabirds were singing, making figures high in the air. She could hear the waves crash on the shore and after the stillness, the silence - no, the total absence of noise - of Death's world, it was overwhelming. The scent of the sea invaded her nostrils and she felt the wind engulf in her hair, making it struggle against the circlet she was wearing. Hermione closed her eyes, blinded by the sun, and tried to calm down.

A few minutes later, she carefully opened her eyes again, and when the sun stopped burning her retina, took the observe the world around her. It was stunningly beautiful. The sun reflected on the marble buildings in the distance, probably belonging to a city a few miles away, and she was currently on top of a cliff. The waves crashed loudly on the rocks far below, white foam rising and getting swallowed again by the forceful water.

Hermione felt tears prickle her eyes and cursed herself under her breath, wiping the shameful droplets with her hand. She took a deep breath and considered the dirt path leading nowhere in particular. She shrugged and began her journey.

Although she was now a technically immortal being, at least for as long as she chose to, or until someone made her part with the Deathly Hallows, she quickly realised that she still had basic needs to fulfill, such as sleep, drink, or eat. The sun was hot above her head and her heavy hair unpleasantly made the temperature even hotter, and soon sweat trickled down her back. She got her wand out and sticked her hair into a lazy bun above her head with a simple spell, and then cast the hundredth cooling charm on herself.

After a few hours of travel, she realised that while walking again was quite pleasant after such a long time spent in the void, it was also quite tiring. Bored, she considered the sun, that was well engaged into its course downwards, and estimated that she only had three hours of sunshine left, give or take. It was time to figure out when to spend the night. Of course, she could always call Death back and ask her to take her back into the void, but she had to admit that being _alive_ again and _feeling things_ was better than to lament with the dark being as sole company.

Not that she had anyone here to distract here either, she thought sarcastically, eyeing the desert around her.

By the gods of irony, just as the thought passed her minds, she heard the sound of a voice and turned around to see a small cloud of dust rising in the hot air. A small carriage was pulled by a beautiful gray horse, a plum man and a gorgeous woman sitting on it.

"Hello," the man said cheerfully, halting the horse. "What are you doing here?"

Hermione fought back the defiance that urged her to tell the man to mind his own bloody business, or else, and plastered a smile onto her face. "Hello," she said with the kindest voice she could produce. "I'm travelling and looking for my way to the city there," she lied, showing the marble buildings on the horizon."

"Without a luggage?" asked the man with raised eyebrows. "Doesn't a young woman like you have an escort?"

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to refrain from telling him off. "I'm afraid we must have parted ways," she said softly.

"Oh, papa," the young woman laughed, "don't interrogate the poor thing. We can take you with us, if you'd like," she added with a kind smile, "we are going to the Pagasae, too."

"Oh thank you," Hermione answered genuinely. She climbed on the carriage and sat next to the girl, shifting awkwardly in the restricted place. The man's daughter didn't seem to mind, and smiled to her.

"Nice to meet you. My name is Daphne, and my father is Otis. And you are?"

"I, uh…" She had to think, quickly. A name game up to her mind and she almost laughed at the irony of it. "I'm Persephone."

Daphne's eyebrows shot briefly into the air but she said nothing and focused on the sightings around them instead. Hermione discreetly reached for her wand and casted a feather-light spell on their carriage, easing the job for the horse, as well as a refreshing spell on her and a slight confusing spell on the people she shared the carriage with. She didn't know how they would react if she was to say something inappropriate for the time she was in, and although she felt a bit of guilt, she remembered that she still had centuries before the establishment of the International Statute of Secrecy.

The remaining of the trip was mostly silent. After Hermione had stated her name, they didn't talk much to her, sending wary looks her way and whispering to each other, too low for Hermione to hear anything.

They left her at sunset, at the gates of the small town. Hermione paid her farewells with a small smile and Daphne told her that they would stay at the town inn for the next two nights, should she need anything. Hermione thanked her gracefully and wandered for a while in the quiet town. Most people had finished their daily tasks and the only agitation came from the inn, which was quite packed.

At the near end of the town, Hermione spotted a small cliff above the houses, battered by the waves crashing below on the shore. Checking around her, she Apparated there swiftly, not fancying the tiresome climb that she would have had to endure had she gone up there the Muggle way.

It was nice enough. The wind was strong, but nothing a mild shield spell couldn't protect her against. The ground was full of rocks and looked uncomfortable, but a cushioning spell would work perfectly on them. Two swishes of the Elder Wand later, she sat contentedly on the rocks that felt like soft pillows, and rested her head on a slightly bigger rock behind her. The stars were astounding. Big and shiny in the night, they were not in the slightest disturbed by any artificial light, for the braseros in the town below were unlit and even if they had been they wouldn't have cast light near powerful enough to eclipse the canopy above her head. She could see constellations, even faintly so, better than she had even seen them with the naked eye. For long minutes she wondered at the sight, a small, genuine smile tugging at her lips.

When she fell asleep, the smile still hadn't faded.

* * *

Hermione woke up, rested but restless. She washed her face in a cold stream nearby, and, sitting on edge of the cliff, watched the sun rise, lost in thought. Now that she was there, she didn't quite know what to do with herself.

The Pagasae started to stir and she soon heard many people living their lives, she heard the stands of the market being put up for the morning and children playing in courtyards. She heard a few roosters and the sounds of horses' feet on the neatly paved streets.

She made her way through the village after a quick bath in the secluded stream. The cold water had been refreshing and when she had the option, she always chose a real bath over magic. Probably one of the remnants of her Muggle upbringing. The years on the run with Harry, Ron, Ginny and Fred had been uncomfortable to this regard ; not matter how many cleaning spells they had casted on themselves, she had always had a feeling of being dirty. The rare times they had indulged in camping near a river had been a true blessing - but the last time far too expensive…

Shaking her head to keep the bad thoughts away, she looked around her, taking in all the little shops and the little houses, the dusty children playing on the cobblestones, and the occasional beggar seated on a porch.

Hermione made her way into a narrow alley, snuck between two big, rich-looking houses. She thought that no one had seen her. Thought that she was safe and she had forgot she possessed the Invisibility Cloak, and she had made a mistake. She Disapparated, unaware of what was about to happen, but in the shadows of the alley, a lone man's eyes grew as big as saucers and he got up from the stone where he was nursing his hangover. His first instinct was to pinch himself, and then, when he was finally assured he was indeed not dreaming, he made his way to his second home - the tavern.

And then he told his tale. How a beautiful young woman had vanished right in front of him. That was the plain truth. That she had a certain resemblance with the Queen of the Underworld was, if far-fetched, kind of true, too. But when, slightly tipsy with the drinks the captivated customers kept buying for him, he said that the flowers that were already there before Hermione's arrival had started blooming when she approached, the story went completely out of control.

Villages gossip, as a main activity, and with them being so close to the Olympus, the tale was known by every living soul before noon. By the time the story reached Daphne's and Otis' eyes, the alleged goddess was the reason harvests had been so good this year, and grass had followed her footsteps, and wherever she had been this morning had been particularly sunny and a breeze full of spring odours had made their way into the villagers' noses.

Daphne and Otis confirmed, bewildered, that they had met her the day before, and that their horse had seemed so rested at the end of their long trip - which was true, of course - and that she had indeed called herself Persephone.

And that was the beginning of Persephone's myth, which lasted for long decades in the village, whose inhabitants were sure they had been blessed with the visit of a goddess.

In a way, they were right.

* * *

She blinked in the sun, unable to see before her. The mountain had been hard to climb, and the beautiful house she had seen in the distance had been indeed worth her enquiry. When her eyes accustomed to the sun, the wonder of it stared right back at her.

It was perched on the mountain, held together by magic, she was oh so sure of it ; the white marble shone in the brightness of the day and reflected the sun rays back at the sky. Beautiful blue paintings decorated the walls, abstract and intriguing, and she just knew that it was not art from this era. Columns held together the roof and the beauty of this house, miraculously standing on this steep mountain, moved her almost to tears.

That the mountain was Olympus was something else entirely. A mystery that meant only one thing ; either the Gods existed, or the Gods were wizards.

Hermione walked to the entrance, slowly, aware of the feel of the pebbles beneath her leather sandals. She drew her wand, the regular one - she didn't want to show the Elder Wand to whoever lived here. Such a display of power had gone wrong for all of the wand's previous owners and she was not a fool.

Just as she reached the entrance, someone came out. Her breath caught. He was so unlike the men she had seen thus far - thin, tall, oh so tall, and with a pale skin and jet black hair that could have painfully reminded her of Harry had it not been so smooth and submissive. His eyes were blue and they shone in the afternoon sun -

"Hello," he said in a voice she didn't recognise but felt so familiar somehow. "Who are you?"

"I —" her breath caught and she coughed slightly, mortified. "Persephone."

His perfect lips twitched and his voice felt like silver when he answered, "I'm Hades."

Hermione raised an eyebrow and clenched her wand harder. Now this was suspicious.

"No need for any of that," he said, tilting his head slightly to the side, his eyes trained on her weapon. "Any witch or wizard is welcome here, and even more so a witch or wizard that knows what a wand is."

Hermione's nostrils flared. So she had been right, of course — and the eerie boy before her, how old was he? Probably no older than twenty five, was a wizard.

Had she made a mistake? How could have she forgotten that wands had not been invented yet and that witches and wizards of Ancient Greece were more likely to use sceptres?

"Please do come in," he said in an agreeable voice. He stepped on the side and made a hand motion to show her into the cool corridor behind him. As Hermione hesitated, he added, "I'd quite like to escape the afternoon sun."

She followed him into the beautiful house with the sinking feeling that she was indeed Persephone, following Hades into his realm.

The walls were pristine white, decorated in the oddest way. Renaissance paintings shone in all their splendor next to modern art, and Hermione noticed a René Magritte work. From suspicious, she became worried. He was clearly a time traveller, just like her - a time traveller with an exquisite taste in art, but dangerous all the same. She followed him through, though, until they reached a sun-bathed patio, with beautiful leather sofas, a low table in the middle of the room, with crystal bottles filled with amber. A cauldron was waiting on a modern-looking lab, just near the high windows.

The place was stunningly beautiful, with gorgeous Greek vases decorating the pieces of furniture, and modern, glass sliding doors leading to a terrace that had a breathtaking view, down into the valley, that was currently filled with low clouds she was absolutely sure she hadn't seen on her way up.

"Would you care for a drink?" asked Hades, lifting delicately the top of one of the crystal bottles. "I haven't had any… visitor for quite a long time."

Hermione's throat felt dry, like parchment, but she declined with a shake of her head.

"Interesting wand you've got here," he said with a jerk of his chin towards her slightly exposed Elder Wand. Hermione's cheeks flushed angrily and she drew a sharp breath.

"How would you know?" she asked, a bit croakily.

He took a few seconds to answer, detailing her with his blue gaze, taking in her toga and the circlet in her wild hair.

"I have seen this wand a few times before. Calm down," he added with a smile. "I don't need it, and I won't take it." He paused and swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "Are you sure you don't want that drink?"

"Quite sure," she retorted drily. He shrugged. She noticed that he, like her, had a British accent, delicate and posh, a bit like Malfoy's - but no, it was a bit more strained, as if he had learned it, it sounded forced somehow -

"So, Persephone," he said, sitting in the sofa, crossing his legs in an aristocratic fashion, his white toga sprawled around him and not showing anything inappropriate, and she felt drawn and repulsed with the indecency of the way he moved, graceful, and yet not unlike the predators she had seen as a child on TV. "Why are you here?"

"Just being a tourist, I'm afraid," she answered cheekily. "You?"

He smiled, the smile never reaching his eyes, a small crooked smile that showed no teeth. He waved his hand and she noticed a black ring on his index finger. "I have settled here a few years ago."

"Where are you from?" she asked, intrigued despite the fact that her gut was telling her to run away from here right now you stupid witch.

"Around," he answered, shrugging again. "And from far away all at once."

His eyes fell again on the Elder Wand and she instinctively rearranged her robes around her. The white wool felt soft against her fingers and she clenched it tightly.

"Who are you? How do you know of this wand? Where in time are you from and what do you want from me?"

Her voice was terse and she felt a bit of fear in her belly when he laughed, coldly, and she felt ghosts shivering in her mind.

"I told you. Hades. This is the name you'll know until I decide you learn another. After all, Persephone, you have not told me your real name, either. I know of this wand because I am smart, and I can read. I am from the future, as surely you'll have deduced by now from the extravagance of my home. And you came to my door, not the other way around. Why?"

She licked her lips, and they felt like dry parchment. She wanted a drink desperately, but couldn't bring herself to drink anything from this house - she knew of the pomegranate seeds and didn't want to tempt fate.

"You feel familiar somehow."

"And you too. But I can assure you I don't know why. Although this is very intriguing."

On that they agreed, and Hermione shivered. She did not want to uncover this mystery. It seemed dark, and unfair, and so, so scary she nodded tensefully and glanced at her bracelet.

"Thank you," she said politely, "for letting me see your beautiful home. I have to leave now."

He considered her and nodded, without getting up. As she was about to leave, she saw a glimpse of gold in the folds of his toga, and recoiled. She had seen this before. A flash of green and he raised an eyebrow, trying to understand what had upsetted her so much. Fear gripped her heart and Hermione let out a strangled "goodbye" before almost rushing to the door, not wanting to let her horror show, but when she left the house she Disapparated away without a glance to her surroundings.

She knew why he felt so familiar. She had met him before. Of course she had.

The eyes and the face and the voice had changed, or they hadn't changed yet, but the Horcruxes didn't lie.

Once safe, she reached for her bracelet and called desperately for Death, and as the entity took her away, only one question remained in her frozen brain :

What the fuck is he doing there?


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I totally forgot I had to update this. Well. Here it is I guess. Love you all. Stay safe!

“You don’t understand,” Hermione yelled, fighting the urge to destroy something. Her hair looked like flames on her head, flowing wildly because of the wind she had conjured without thinking. 

Death stared at her with her hollow eyes, unphased. 

“He was there in Greece and he has the Hallows for Merlin’s sake!”

“He does,” Death answered flatly. 

“How? You told me I was the first. How could he have the Hallows when they are mine?”

Death shrugged and the bones clicking together made an awful noise. “There are two possibilities. One,” she said, and a bony finger raised from her black robes, “he has already acquired your Hallows and he has taken them from you in his past and your future. He does seem like he would play with you like this.” Hermione shivered. “Two, he is from an alternate reality.” 

“What?”

“They exist, of course,” Death said, her metallic voice slightly disdainful. “Every choice we make, ever so tiny, makes another world entirely. The universe is… like a tapestry if you’d prefer, made with threads that align together and sometimes cross.”

“This is… whoa,” Hermione said weekly. She had thought about it, of course, but Muggles had never proved it, and the Wizards in her time weren’t really interested in understanding the world they lived in. Most of them didn’t even know that walking on the Moon was possible and they would scream outrage if they heard that Muggles had actually done it several times. 

“So he has the ability to travel between those realities?” Hermione asked, frowning. 

“He makes new ones, and so do you. Every choice you make creates new realities. But, yes, I suppose he can cross the tapestry at will.”

“Can I, too?”

Death looked severely down at her. The wind had calmed down and her hair, tangled, rested in a pile on her head, in a messy bun she had unconsciously made when rebellious strands had flung into her eyes and she didn’t care for it. 

“No.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “You do know I’m your mistress, right?”

“Last time we talked, you didn’t really want it,” Death said almost sulkily.

“Tell me the truth.”

“I…” Death sighed. “I would not advise it. It’s dangerous, reckless, not to mention that if you interacted with other universes you could mess up everything for them, too. You cannot go check on your friends ; that I will refuse to help you with.”

Hermione felt her heart sink. She had, of course, thought about seeing Harry, Ron, Ginny, everyone she loved, again. Even from a distance it would have been soothing for her aching heart. But Death was surely right ; it would probably do her more harm than good, and it was dangerous. 

“But if he has actually travelled through realities, why? How come he did not stay in his own era, where he had everything?”

Death shrugged. “How should I know? I do not know this man.” 

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed heavily. 

“Do you want to know more about him despite everything?” asked Death, a hint of curiosity in her hollow voice. 

“Why? Is there a way?”

“No, I’m just curious.”

“It’s… complicated. Of course I’d like to know what he’s doing here, since he has no reason to - at least not to my knowledge. But now he knows about me. He knows I have the Hallows. And he knows that I know him, too. It has to intrigue him and I cannot just snuff around pretending not to be anyone. It’s just as if I had a big target on my back now.”

“Do you want to stay here indefinitely?”

She felt tired suddenly, tears of frustration flooding her eyes. “I don’t know?” she said shakily. “Should I? Now that the ache of losing everyone has sustained a little bit, I feel like I want to learn about the world. Isn’t that selfish? There is so much for me to see after all, and I’m alive and they are not and I have so much power now…”

Death considered her at length and then said in a soft voice, “I think it might be time for you to talk to your fallen friends.”

The idea made Hermione cry for good. She felt weak and miserable and tired and she wanted nothing more than to curl in a tight ball and never face anything again. 

But she agreed deep down with Death. She felt conflicted and she knew that she would have to get some closure eventually. 

Then something so simple she had never considered made her tilt her head up and look at the unmoving friend of her servant. 

“What about changing everything? Going back and try to understand what happened?”

“Did you not hear what I was telling you about alternate realities?” asked Death in an annoyed tone. “You cannot interfere. Even if you could, it wouldn’t change anything. It might be harsh but your friends in your universe are dead and you cannot do anything about it. Even if you go to your childhood, take your own place and save everyone miraculously - and this is nowhere near certain as you could actually make everything worse - they would not be your friends and be assured, there is certainly a reality where everyone has been saved just like what happens in your cute little utopia.”

Hermione frowned deeply, unsure if she should be very much upset about the tone she had been spoken to or about the truth she heard in Death’s words. 

Either way, she was indeed stuck. She sighed again and put forward her hand. 

“Okay, then. Let me talk to my friends.” 

Death handed over the Stone without another word and left Hermione with her thoughts. 

It took her a very, very long time to muster the courage to spin the Stone in her palm three times. It weighed heavily in her hand, and she was tempted to just let it rest on the dark grass and forget everything about it. 

After all, what good could it do? She was so scared that her friends were going to just hate her for what happened. She had killed Harry. She had risked everything and she had done the most difficult thing in her entire life and she had killed her best and very first friend. How could she face his green eyes, even in a ghost form? How could she look at him knowing that she was responsible for his death? 

She sighed again, tears threatening to flow again. And after an eternity or two, she closed her eyes and spinned the Stone in her palm. One, two, three times. 

For a moment nothing happened. Nothing broke the eerie silence of the Void, and she almost thought that it didn’t work after all. And then, a hand, a very solid hand, rested on her shoulder. 

“Hermione?”

Hermione sobbed, refusing to open her eyes. Her nose twitched and the scent of Harry invaded her nostrils and she wanted so bad to flung herself into his arms. 

“Hermione, open your eyes, love.”

She obeyed without thinking, and there he was, clean, without glasses and without scar, in clean, comfy clothes. He was smiling. 

She took his hand carefully, not knowing if she had dreamed the solidity of it, and when she confirmed the theory, she hugged him tightly, and he embraced her back with both arms. 

“Oh, Harry,” she said, her voice broken, “I’m so so sorry for what I’ve done to you.” 

“It’s okay, ‘Mione,” he said in a muffled voice - her hair was all over the place, making its way in his mouth and he laughed at the familiarity of it. “It’s okay. I wanted you to. You know that.”

“Wasn’t there another way -”

“There wasn’t. I’m sure there wasn’t.”

“How come you’re solid?”

“How should I know?” he shrugged, still holding her closely. “I thought you were the one that knew everything. You’re in Death’s realm, right? Maybe that’s why.” 

“I guess,” Hermione whispered, tears flowing down her cheeks. “Damn, it’s good to see you.” 

He chuckled again. “I suppose so, since you’re swearing.”

“Shut up,” she laughed. 

“What about me?” A painfully familiar, laughing voice asked behind them. 

Hermione turned around and drowned herself in Ron’s blue eyes. He was wearing his favourite clothes, tattered, grungy blue jeans and a Gryffindor T-shirt. The red was clashing horribly with his hair but he looked wonderful all the same. 

“Oh, Ron,” Hermione sobbed, running to him and burying herself happily into his long arms. “Ron I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, ‘Mione,” he whispered in her ear. “You have no idea.”

“Where is everyone else?” Hermione asked, sighing happily when Harry joined their hug. 

“Well, they er, wanted us to come first. So that you’re not. You know. Overwhelmed.”

Something sounded weird and Hermione pulled back from the hug and looked at Harry with a raised eyebrow. 

“You realize that even now, I know when you’re lying, Harry James Potter,” she said flatly. 

Harry looked uncomfortable and ran a hand in his messy hair, looking at Ron as if asking for help. Ron shrugged, non-verbally saying “that’s your problem, mate.”

Hermione felt the violent urge to laugh hysterically, confronted as she was with the normality of it all. 

But they were lying to her and she was determined to figure it out. 

She kept her eyes trained on her best friend, and his emerald stare met hers uneasily. 

“Well - we all saw what happened with, er. You know who. Ha,” he laughed brightly, throwing a playful look at Ron who sniggered. “First time I actually called him that in bloody years.”

Hermione fought the smile tugging at her lips and kept looking at him inquisitively. 

“Right,” he mumbled, suddenly darkening. “We all saw what happened with him, see, and er. Ginny is kind of mad. Shocked, maybe. She and I, we recognised him instantly, and well, she… it’s possible she’s still a bit upset about my death.” 

“Oh,” Hermione managed to say, her eyes falling to the ground. “I see.”

“Look, it’s alright, love,” Ron said comfortingly. “You know how she is. She’s like mum, a bit crazy but she’ll come around eventually.” 

“Oi!” Screamed a familiar voice angrily. “Don’t you dare say I’m mum-crazy you idiot!”

“There she is,” Ron said with a crooked smile. “Knew that would work.” 

“Arsehole,” mumbled Ginny. “Hi, Hermione.”

Her voice was cold and her demeanour distant. Hermione raised her eyes to meet her brown stare and she fought the urge to shuffle her feet. “Hi, Ginny. Look, about Harry, I -”

“Gin,” Harry interrupted with a firm tone, “I explained it to you. She did the right thing. When he began to possess me, I was lost already. My Occlumency was failing and if she had waited even a few seconds more, he would’ve been able to kill her and ruin all our sacrifices. So just take it easy on her, she’s having a hard time right now.”

“Yes, I saw,” Ginny said angrily. “Being chums with Tom fucking Riddle is not the most easy thing to do.”

“Chums?” Hermione repeated indignantly. “What the hell are you talking about, Ginny?” 

“Well, it’s bloody convenient, you being in the exact time he is in and running into him. Of all the places in the fucking world, you had to choose his vacation place, didn’t you? I guess power does things to you, Mistress of Death.” 

“I can’t believe how unfair you’re being, Ginny,” Hermione answered, hurt dripping in her voice. “I didn’t choose to run into him and deep down I know you know that.” 

“Maybe not. But what about wanting to know more about him? After all the things he’s done to us? After he killed me and Ron and mum and George and everybody else? Fuck, he even tortured Dad for days in front of Percy!” 

“I know that! Don’t you think it hurt me?” Hermione squeaked weakly. “I loved your family like it was mine. Don’t you remember what I had to sacrifice, too?”

“And yet you throw it all away because you’re fascinated somehow about this fucking psychopath!” Ginny yelled. “Oh I understand what this is all about, don’t you remember? At least I had the excuse of being eleven fucking years old,” she added, disgusted. 

“All right, Ginny, that’s quite enough,” Harry said finally, his voice stern. “Hermione, we’re all very worried about you. And quite frankly, I don’t understand what you could gain from this situation and I think you should bolt out of there as soon as you can - which would be now, actually. But, shut up Ginny,” he said when Ginny opened her mouth angrily. “But, we’re dead. You’re not. And you should not let dead people tell you how to live your life. We all love you - Ginny I swear to Merlin if you say anything I will not speak to you for the rest of eternity - that’s better - we all love you and nothing you could do would change any of that.”

“What he said,” Ron nodded emphatically. 

Ginny said nothing but nodded too, curtly. She seemed to think really hard about something. “Look. I’m sorry I’ve been so… harsh. And rude. Really. But you have to understand. He’s dangerous. I know you like knowledge and I know he’s devastatingly handsome and his charisma is unbelievable. Oh shut up Ron,” she rolled her eyes when her brother made a gagging noise. “He is, I know that. And maybe, maybe the version of him you saw isn’t half as bad as the one we knew. That’s still fucking evil to me, alright? And I fear that… He’s deadly smart, he is, and I reckon he might want to keep you around and trap you for your brains. Because we were able to barely stop him the first time around. With you on his side, I don’t think we could have. That’s all I have to say.” 

She paused and looked at her with pure sincerity in her eyes and Hermione’s vision blurred with tears. 

“We do love you. All of us. And really, go on with your life as Harry said. But please be careful.” 

Hermione nodded and they all collapsed into each other’s arms. 

_________

Hermione barely flinched when she Apparated. She briefly thought about it and realised that she probably should have. A few decades or centuries ago, long-distance apparitions like those would have exhausted her. After all, jumping from Australia to northern Sweden was no small feat. But she found herself more bothered by the sudden change of temperature rather than the distance itself. 

She was gaining power, undoubtedly, and in such a way that she hadn’t realised it earlier. 

Shrugging and wordlessly conjuring a heavy coat on her shoulders, she made her way through the thick snow, magically melting it so she wouldn’t struggle too much. She had looked and waited for this place and time for a very long time and she wouldn’t let things as trivial as the weather slow her down now. 

The cabin was small, buried in snow, and apparently someone had made a great deal of effort to hide it. The door was barely noticeable, even to her acute eyes, and she felt strong wards around the tiny house. Nevertheless, she slashed her wand - the Elder Wand - and opened the door. It creaked and resisted but she pushed hard and snow engulfed into the wooden house. 

“Well hello,” croaked a voice in the corner of the dark room. “You could have knocked, you know.”

Hermione lit an orb that floated midair and brightly illuminated the room. The old lady sitting by an empty fire barely blinked and Hermione shrugged the snow off her shoulders. 

“Hello,” Hermione said amiably. “I didn’t know if anybody was home.” 

“May I ask what brings you here?” Asked the elderly woman, smiling as if seeing an old friend again. Hermione nodded, back to business, and sat herself uninvited on a wooden stool. 

“I’m looking for your book.” 

“Are you now?” The woman said, obviously amused. “And why should I give it to you?”

“You could try and say no, of course,” said Hermione in a steely voice, “but I’m afraid I would take it anyway. I need that book.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, young lady.” 

Hermione raised an eyebrow. It had been a very, very long time since anybody had talked to her that way. After all, the last time she had met this woman, on her deathbed, she had talked to her with reverence, fear almost, and the demeanour she had now was quite different from that. 

“Listen carefully, Ms. Alström.” The old woman raised both her eyebrows when she heard her name - her true name. “I’m looking for your book so I can understand things. There’s somebody else that has seen it - you’ve probably met him. I’m looking for him and trying to understand what the hell he’s doing with this kind of informations. So kindly just tell me where you’ve hidden it and I swear I will give it back to you in no time at all.” 

“You seem to know my name,” Alström replied suspiciously. “But I haven’t given my name in more than seventy five years. This was way before you were born.” She paused and considered Hermione, obviously thinking hard. “Who are you again?”

“I’m Persephone.”

The old woman frowned deeply, accentuating her wrinkles. “Persephone,” she repeated in a whisper. “Surely you didn’t mean -”

“Yes, the man you met calls himself Hades. I know. He’s the man I’m looking for.”

“Oh.” Alström seemed weaker now, and she looked like she was about to collapse from sadness. “He told me - it was so many years ago - how can you know about this?”

Fear flashed in her eyes and she straightened up. Hermione waited patiently for her to connect the dots. “How old are you?”

“Last time I checked, I was five hundred and thirty one years old. Give or take.”

“Is he - is he, too?”

“Ageless?” asked Hermione with a sympathetic smile. “Yes. He’s probably older than me now.”

“We met when I was young, oh so young,” Alström said in a whisper. “I thought we were in love. I shared my experiments and my family’s secrets with him and then one day he said that he was leaving for a quest or something and I waited for so long.”

“I understand,” Hermione replies with a curt nod. “He tends to do that to people.” 

“He told me to hide the book for him. But he never intended to come back, did he?”

“He will,” Hermione replied. “But he cannot have that book. It’s too dangerous.”

“Who are you?” asked the old lady again. “What do you want from me?”

“I told you, I just need the book. I promise I will keep it safe. He will come back eventually, a few years from now. He cannot have it back. The power he’s gained since you last saw him - I’m just following his footsteps, trying to undo all the bad things he’s trying to do. It’s been more than five hundred years now and I think he’s beginning to catch up and it’s vital that I get this book. Or else, he will be truly out of my control, and it could mean the end of all things.”

“You speak of him like you hate him, and yet - you seem alive for the first time since you walked into my home.”

Hermione shrugged. “It keeps me going,” she said slowly, trying to figure out what she could and couldn’t say. “Gives me a purpose. Look, Agnes. Can I call you Agnes? We will meet again in a few years and I will not know you then. You have to tell me the exact date I came here. Do you understand?”

Agnes was a brilliant woman. Of course she understood. “So you travel through time, too?” A bitter smile crossed her features. “All those years I’ve waited and it might not have affected him at all?” 

“Agnes I’m sorry. But he probably doesn’t care.”

Agnes stayed silent for a few minutes before slowly getting up and taking her wand out. She walked to a bookshelf, dusty and containing books that looked older than Hermione herself, and waved her wand in complex patterns before slicing her palm open and pressing it against the old wood. She didn’t even flinch. A green light emanated from the place where her blood had made contact with the bookshelf, and a glowing book appeared in her hands. With reverence, Agnes walked back to Hermione in tiny steps, her eyes trained on the leather cover. 

“Keep it safe then,” Agnes said in a low voice before pressing the book in Hermione’s hands. “Make the bastard pay.”

“Count on me,” Hermione said with a feral smile. 

And then she Disapparated. 

__________

Only when she was safe in her gorgeous house Hermione allowed herself to open the book in her hands. 

It was old and smelled like very old parchment and she had never held something as valuable in her entire, long life. Except of course the Hallows she possessed. 

She opened the front cover and read the old Norse effortlessly. The Book of Worlds. She had waited for so long to get her hands on this book and now she was a bit afraid to read it. 

Basically, it was every knowledge Agnes Alström and her mother had gathered on the Tapestry, as they called it. Hermione quite liked the nickname and had taken to it - much to Death’s despair. Death seemed to think it was a far too mundane word to describe the immensity of the universe, but Hermione couldn’t bring herself to care much. 

Agnes’ mother, Oda, had theorised the concept around forty and had pursued the research her whole life. She had died when Agnes was fifteen, trying to cross the Tapestry without knowing what preparations she had to make. The burst of energy had instantly consumed her and only her body’s imprint remained in the clearing where she had attempted her journey. 

Agnes, after this tragedy, had been much more conscientious, and had not attempted the jump until her mid twenties. Shortly, in fact, before meeting Hades. And that was where Hermione’s knowledge ended. 

She inhaled deeply and settled herself in her comfortable armchair, absently conjuring tea from the kitchen. And she threw herself into the book. 

It was, after all, her only way to understand how Hades was doing it, since Death still refused to explain to her the mechanics. She was apparently scared that Hermione would use the knowledge to go and try to save her friends, but she had talked at length with said friends through the centuries about this particular project, and they had talked her out of it, saying that instead of risking the whole Tapestry’s utter destruction, she should focus on trying to stop Hades instead. Or Tom. 

She broke her focus, annoyed at her stray thoughts. She had taken to call him Hades, weirdly, probably because she didn’t want to remember him as the psychopath that had ruined her life. Which was worrying in itself. She felt like they completed each other somehow, which was even more worrying. He was wreaking havoc on the worlds, and she followed, trying to undo what he had done, erasing the memories of people that had seen him, gathering the informations he had himself tracked. She knew he was on his tracks, too, and that he was beginning to understand what she was doing. Together they danced in a loop, and it created a kind of weird companionship between them, that Hermione feared and relished in. 

But calling him Hades made this connection between them tangible, known, and she had seen Harry’s flash of anger when she had slipped and called Tom that in front of him, so long ago. He hadn’t said anything, but the next few times they met, he had been carefully distant about the whole matter and she had not pushed it any further, scared of his reaction - and of what it would have to say about her own feelings. 

Shaking her head, Hermione went back to Oda Alström’s neat handwriting. 

Five or six hours later, the sun had settled behind the horizon and Hermione had just closed the book. She stared into the distance in disbelief, her pale hand resting on the cover, as if protecting the manuscript from the outside world. 

Suddenly, a bang on her door made her start. She slowly rose up and covered the book with the Cloak - you never know. She opened the door and raised an eyebrow ; her own face was staring back at her. 

“He’s coming,” her other self said flatly as a hello. “Hide the book. Now.” 

And the other Hermione disappeared. 

“Nice to see you again,” she mumbled. 

And then the words hit her and fear overtook her being for the first time in decades and she called Death in a whisper. She appeared in front of her, visibly annoyed. 

“You do know, Mistress,” she said in obvious sarcasm, “that for some reason most people tend to die at night and that I have a job?”

“Shut up and take this,” Hermione said without raising her voice, urgency dripping in her tone. “Take this book and put it in safety. Don’t even give it back to me in the human world. Take it to the Void and keep it fucking safe do you hear me?”

“Agreed, but what -”

“I’ll explain later! It’s not safe! You go, now!”

Just as Death disappeared, someone knocked delicately on the door. Hermione took a deep breath and fought the urge to check her face. What did it matter anyway? She did straightened her long robe though, and made her way to the heavy oak door.

“Hello, Persephone,” he said in a velvet voice. Hermione’s breath caught in her lungs and she considered him for a moment. He was as handsome as ever, clad in a long black cloak and deep green robes underneath. His smooth hair was parted to the side and his neat eyebrows were raised slightly, a small crooked smile tugging at his lips.

“Hello,” she answered when she was certain her voice wouldn’t shake. “It’s been a while.”

“Indeed,” Hades said pleasantly. “I have to say I’m impressed you have been able to follow me all this time.”

“I’m impressed you have been able to track me down and realize what I was doing,” Hermione retorted smugly.

He snorted delicately, visibly amused. “Oh, you are quite sure of yourself, aren’t you?” 

Hermione raised an eyebrow and took a step to the side, inviting him in. 

He made his way into the richly decorated corridor, taking in his surroundings. “I admit I didn’t expect you to live in Victorian London,” he said quietly. “I first thought you’d be in Greece.”

“Two Masters of Death in one country did seem a bit crowded,” Hermione shrugged. “And I’m not that fond of the sun. Plus, Charles Dickens’ company is just delightful.” 

“Oh, yes, I recall he is quite the gracious host,” Hades smirked. “Back to business then. Where is the book, o my delightful wife?”

Hermione fought the shudder and chose to laugh. “Not here, of course. Did you think I didn’t see you were on your way?”

Anger flared in his eyes but he maintained his composure. “Of course,” he said in a flat tone. “I’m afraid the future you was not that graceful, I ran into her on my way in.”

Hermione didn’t answer and instead made her way to a console in the corner of the room. She chose a crystal bottle and laid two glasses on the wood. “Whisky?” she asked as if they were two old friends and weren’t about to jump at each other’s throat. 

“Please,” he answered gracefully, taking off his cloak and placing it neatly on an armchair. “It has been a long trip.”

“I can guess. Whatever did you need that book for?” she asked, keeping her voice light. 

“Oh, you know. Stuff.” 

She smiled inwardly and handed him his glass before seating on a sofa near the window. He chose to stand, observing idly her library - which was, she was proud to say, large and well furnished. 

“I do need it back, though,” he said forcefully. 

“Oh, but however are you going to get it, Hades?” Hermione asked, unperturbed.

“I could just kill you.”

“Wouldn’t give it back to you. Death has it safe and you perfectly know the Voids are the only places we cannot follow each other into. And,” she added as an afterthought, “you don’t really want to kill me.” She smiled sweetly at him.

“How do you know me?” 

She couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t denied her statement. 

“From my past.”

“My future then?”

“No.” Hermione took a sip of the burning liquid contentedly, not paying much attention to her pounding heart. 

“Oh, I see. You’re from another reality, right?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Five hundred years since we know each other and you just figured that out?” she said in disbelief. “And here I thought you were smart.”

“Careful, Persephone,” he said in a low voice. “I could still kill you.”

“Of course you could,” she replied with a saccharine smile, as if she were talking to a two years old.

He glared at her and finished his whisky with one gulp, before setting it on the low table with a bit more force than necessary.

“Well then,” he said coldly, “I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

“See you, Hades.”

He didn’t answer and stormed out of the house. 

Hermione took a minute to settle her nerves with another drink before calling Death back. “So sorry to bother you again, but could you take me back about half an hour earlier, please? Oh and make sure it’s outside the house.”

Death shrugged and took her arm. The word spinned and Hermione fought a headache. 

This was getting way too complicated even for her taste. 

____________________

“This is bad,” Death observed flatly.

“Talk about an understatement,” Hermione replied acidly. They were sitting on the black grass of the Void, cross-legged, Agnes’ book between them. 

“What is it about humans that want to discover everything?” Death said, irritated. “I swear that you lot are the biggest pain in my arse.”

“Your bony arse.”

Death’s stare drilled into Hermione’s eyes and she smiled awkwardly. “Sorry. Comic relief, I guess.”

“Laugh all you want, he has read some of it. And this is really, really bad.”

“Surely his Death will talk him out of this?” Hermione asked doubtfully. 

Death snorted derisively. “Have I really stopped you from doing anything in the last five centuries?”

Hermione thought about if or a moment and sighed. “All right. Point taken, I guess. But still. Even for him, merging all realities together is extremely reckless. If he thinks he can pull it off, then he’s a fucking idiot.”

“He did make seven Horcruxes voluntarily in your reality though.” 

“He did. But I’m not sure he has that many actually. He doesn’t have snake-like features at all and his eyes are still blue. He’s just really pale.”

Death hummed distractedly and poked the book with a skeletal finger. 

“Hey! Careful with that, this manuscript is invaluable!” Hermione said reproachfully. 

“You have to figure out what he wants,” Death observed without acknowledging her.

“Yes, I can see that happen perfectly,” Hermione replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. 

“Don’t be daft. He seems to like you. He hasn’t tried to kill you. Yet.”

“Yet being the key point in your reasoning. Besides…” Hermione thought for a moment, enjoying the utter quietness of the Void. “Besides, he hasn’t read the whole book yet. He may not even know what Agnes has managed to discover.”

“Maybe not. But how can you be sure she hasn’t shared her hypothesis with him when they were together? This kind of breakthrough… She must have thought about it years before she actually proved it. He must know that if you’ve taken the book from him, then she has discovered it. And from what you’ve told me, he will get that book, one day or another. If he hasn’t laid his hands on it yet.”

“Oh Merlin,” Hermione whined. “I really have to go and see him, don’t I?” 

“Well, if you want to save the universes, or at least get a shot at saving it… yes.”

Hermione groaned and took her head between her hands. This was going to be disastrous. “Okay, fuck. Okay I’ll go. Take me to his home in Greece. Around 400BC, I guess?”

Death looked at her sympathetically and grabbed her hand. 

______________

A few seconds of nothingness later, Hermione slashed her wand at the wards and made her way into the beautiful home of Hades. If she was to go and see him, then at least she should make a grand entrance. She sincerely hoped that the Hades who would come and see her would be the one that already knew about the book and she hoped that she wouldn’t be into his future so much that he would actually have it. 

She helped herself with a glass of his fine whisky and settled into a sofa, sipping it contentedly. On the outside she looked perfectly confident, as if waiting for a friend, to share a cuppa or a meal. On the inside, she felt like her heart was going to burst and cursed herself for her nervousness. 

She was settling for a long wait when wards hummed in her ears, as she had learned to feel them in the last couple of decades. She glanced up and focused on the feeling, then got up and slowly made her way to a white wall, near the kitchen. 

“Oh, Hades,” she grinned, purring like a cat. “You really should hide your treasures better.”

She rolled her sleeves and brandished the Elder Wand, tilting her head to the side while she considered the intricate wards protecting a hidden room. 

At least, she had something to do while she was waiting for him. 

It took her almost two hours to make her way through the wards, for which she was very much impressed. He had obviously gone through a great deal of effort to hide whatever this room contained, but she was determined and eventually she demolished them.

She had done it with a flourish, too, so he would definitely be aware of what she was doing and when. 

The wall morphed into a panel that glided softly to the side, and Hermione casted some light into the windowless room. It was very large and organised, and everywhere she looked were goblin-made weapons, old artifacts, ancient looking books - unfortunately, no Horcruxes, but she didn’t expect them to be there, but rather in his Void, where even she couldn’t go. 

A small armchair with a magical lamp on a small table were in the centre of the room, and a wooden desk in the corner. She saw a magnifying glass there, with a handful of jewels, and she giggled at the cliché. 

On a shelf fixed on the wall, her eyes landed on a beautiful tiara, that very much looked like the Ravenclaw diadem. She approached it carefully, but just as she was about to probe it with her wand - surely he wasn’t dumb enough to turn that into a Horcrux and leave it there? His voice rung behind her. 

“Careful with that.”

She turned around and repressed the feeling of guilt. She had every right to go through his stuff after all, with her preventing him from destroying the world and everything. 

“Why? Did you put a piece of your soul inside that, too?” 

“Oh no,” he said with a smile, as if totally unbothered by her presence in his home. “No, though it was the plan, I never actually made seven Horcruxes. I figured it would do awful things to my sanity, and I like to keep a clear head. Furthermore, this artefact is the most incredible thing I ever put my hands on.” He raised an eyebrow. “Want to try it on?”

She gnawed on her lip, conflicted. On one hand, it was incredibly dangerous. On the other hand, it was the relic she had most craved for. A diadem that granted superior intelligence to whoever wore it? How could she pass the offer? 

But she was careful. She had become more careful than avid. “If you loan it to me and I have time to check whatever curse you could have put into it, then yes. If not, I’ll pass.”

“Fine then,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll expect it back in a few days though.”

“So,” Hermione said with a smile, settling herself in the armchair. “How have you been?”

“Considering I saw you about two weeks ago, I’m fine enough,” he replied sneakily. “You know, it’s getting a bit complicated, to meet each other at different points of our timeline and everything.”

“Agreed, but what could we do, o husband dearest?” Hermione said with fake despair.

A gleam of desire burned in his blue eyes and Hermione stared, caught off guard. “What could we do indeed,” he whispered back.

Hermione suppressed a shiver and trained her eyes back on the treasures on the walls. “How come you didn’t protect those better?” She asked nonchalantly. “Although it wasn’t exactly easy to go through, you could have done way better. Or you could have taken them to your Void. Why?”

“I wanted you to find them, of course,” he drawled disdainfully. “And I thought you were smart.”

“Why?” She demanded with a raised eyebrow. 

“I have my reasons. Besides, those are barely trinkets. It’s this I wanted you to find.”

He picked up the Diadem between two of his long and pale fingers, holding it thoughtfully in front of him. “You have an immense potential, and though I have used this diadem a lot the past few centuries, you would discover the wonders I have seen.”

“Hm,” Hermione said. “What do you want with the Book of Worlds, Hades?”

“Oh, you mean this book?” He reached into his pocket and produced an obviously magically enlarged pouch before pulling out the old book Hermione had seen in the Void a few hours ago. “I have to admit, you were a pain in my arse, hiding it from me this way. Do you know how many realities I had to go through to find one where Agnes had written her theory?”

Hermione shrugged, though dread filled her veins. “I don’t know, ten?”

“Two hundred and seventy five,” he replied harshly. “Insufferable minx.”

Why did it sound like an endearing word in his mouth? She asked herself in bewilderment. She felt another rush of attraction coursing through her veins and her breath caught and she was so drawn to his blue eyes that looked at her expectantly and his tall figure and his pale oh so pale hands and she - 

Wait. 

“What the fuck did you put in your whisky?” she asked hoarsely. 

“Oh, you are a clever witch,” he grinned. “Just a little something to confirm what I was thinking.” 

He made a few steps and then he was in front of her, and she felt their closeness like radiant heat between their bodies, and she longed to touch his skin and devour his mouth and to have him right there. “I hate you so fucking much,” she said passionately, and she was genuine, hatred filled every inch of her rational mind but desire filled everything else and it was so hard to fight. 

“No, you don’t. You want me, don’t you?” He asked, inching closer to her, and she could feel his cool breath on her face, and his feral grin showed white teeth and his blue eyes were mesmerising. 

“No,” she managed to spat. “I hate you. The only reason I’m here is to destroy you, do you understand that?”

He raised his hand and tried to push a curly lock away from her cheek but she slapped it to the side. “You know,” he whispered, and he was so close and everything was so hard to maintain under control, “I have made a little trip to this reality of yours. The twentieth century, I mean.” Her blood froze in her veins but captivated she listened intently. “I saw what you did to your friend and I know everything about you.” He kissed her cheek, and she felt the urge to push him away but he was too strong and too close and she felt like she had lost already. “Young Mudblood who had so much to prove and who refused Slytherin and Ravenclaw because she wanted to be brave. I’ve seen everything. How you fought Voldemort with all your will and lost everything in the process. But you won, didn’t you, Minx?” 

“Leave me alone,” she whispered, tears flowing in her eyes. “Please just leave me alone.”

“Shh,” he soothed her, putting a hand in her hair and stroking her head gently. “You’re with me now. You’ll be all right. I’m not as crazy as the man you fought in the past and I would never hurt you. Don’t you see? We’re the same, you and I, and together we could be king and queen of this universe. You’re my equal, Persephone, Hermione, and there’s no other witch who could match your power, ever. Please, please be mine.” 

“I don’t want you,” she said, her voice weak, her mouth inching closer to his. “Don’t make me.” 

“The potion I dosed you with just contained a little enhancer. Nothing you say or do now will be forced, it would merely be encouraged.” 

His hand was cupping her cheek and he stroked her mouth with a thumb, and she could smell him all over her and she felt lost. “You know you want to,” he murmured just against her mouth.

And she gave in. The passion was overwhelming and she crushed her mouth against him and he groaned and his right hand clasped at her hair and his left hand pushed on the small of her back to get her closer. They were so pressed against each other she felt she was about to suffocate but she refused to let go. Her hand travelled to his hair and she abandoned herself in the glorious feeling of Hades, whom she had secretly desired all those decades, and who was now hers, albeit briefly. 

“Be mine,” he said again between kisses, “be mine.”

She didn’t answer and their foreheads pressed against each other and she drowned herself into his eyes, and so much was at play there, and he breathed heavily just like her and she could imagine how the lust in his eyes mirrored hers. 

“I can’t be yours,” she said eventually, and it took every ounce of her will. “I can’t because it would betray everything I stand for.” 

“Bullshit,” he said, unperturbed. His distracting thumb was idly drawing circles on her hip. She wanted to scream. “You want to. You would be my equal and we would do everything together. Don’t you feel lonely?” 

“Sometimes,” she admitted, “but it’s the price to pay if I want to fight you.”

“Why do you fight me, Persephone,” he asked almost desperately, “you saw how different I am, how sane I am, and I merely want -“ 

“To merge the worlds into one,” she said painfully. “And cut the fucking crap, Hades. Begging is not your style and I’m, as they say, unfazed.” 

His desperate look turned into a cruel smile and she shuddered, realizing that she was in front of the real Hades, and not some pale image he had manufactured, of a man in love, of a man who could feel. 

“Why should I hop around worlds, trying to assess my dominance, when I could just merge them and rule without exhausting myself constantly?” he shrugged. 

“Good Merlin, you are an idiot,” Hermione said in disbelief. “I thought maybe you weren’t and you just had delusions of grandeur, but you are really, really stupid.”

His eyes flashed with rage and he grabbed her chin with his hand, but Hermione, unphased, merely cast a burning jinx wandlessly to get him to let go. She smiled at him. 

“See, Tommy,” Hermione said - another flash of anger, but she was so angry herself that he had dosed her, that he thought her able to fall for his weak plan - “maybe you haven’t noticed. Maybe you haven’t bothered to look. I bet you haven’t even bothered to look for anyone else than you in the parallels - or me. But you know, there are parallels where Hitler won. Where the Roman Empire still stands. There’s even a parallel where Muggles miraculously discovered modern science and electricity and everything in the 12th century, and they utterly fucked up their climate and now it’s almost only water there. Everyone’s dead. You’re dead.”

Hades sneered and almost snarled, “So what?” 

“So you’ll rule over ashes and you’re an idiot. Why rule anyway?” 

He seemed astounded by the question itself. “Because I am meant to.”

“Research is more important. More interesting. Dealing with the tedious concerns and plans of people beneath you didn’t appeal to me at all, you know. I can bet it’s horrid to be friendly with those awful Death Eaters - sorry, Knights or whatever - of yours. And you’re not meant to rule. With a brain like yours, you’re meant to be the puppet master and let the minions do all the work.”

“What about the loneliness?”

“Does it bother you, Hades?” She asked sweetly. 

“Ruling together would be better than ruling alone,” he said calmly, without the faintest hint of emotion in his voice. 

“You know what? Give up. Give up on ruling, on merging the world. Let’s live a beautiful, long life in a beautiful place, let the Greek Muggles think they’ve got gods. Give up on power and Tom, I’ll be yours.”

He clenched his teeth, hard. “No.” 

“Then I’ll see you around.” 

She felt disappointed. Of course. She had been lonely those past few centuries, obviously. And she had not been able to find comfort with anyone. How could she? Nobody could understand what she was, how old she was, how they childish squirms annoyed her. Everybody seemed young to her. She was the oldest person of this planet save for the stupid, stupid bright boy and his plans. She took a deep breath and met his eyes. He was still close, so close to her and she could smell him all around her, could still feel this mouth of his against hers and his hand on her body. 

She wanted him so much but her determination was absolute. 

“Stop,” she said simply, her voice barely over a whisper but so loud in the silence barely troubled with their breathings, “stop and I’m yours.” 

His answer didn’t surprise her in the slightest. “Never.” 

“Then goodbye,” she said with a saccharine smile and, perfectly composed, peeled herself from the wall he had pushed her against, before waving and making her way to the door. She turned one last time and looked at him, not showing any emotion at all. “We do seem to run into each other regularly, after all.” 

She heard the crash of one of the ‘trinkets’ on the panel she had closed behind her and didn’t allow herself to cry before being safely tucked in her own bed in London. 

_____________________

She hadn’t indulged in large destruction plans like he seemed to have taken on. She prided herself on that. 

After all, when Death reported idly that several thousand had died in an awful earthquake, while pointedly looking at Hermione over her cup of tea, she had understood instantly. She didn’t comment on it, although she asked in a strain voice if the locals had discovered whether the fire was accidental or not, and Death had shrugged and they had resumed sipping their tea in silence. 

It was a habit they had taken on. On the occasions they met, they went to Hermione’s London house, picked up the exquisite tea leaves she stored there, and boiled water before sipping their tea contentedly in one of her living rooms. Hermione had asked one day why Death even liked tea, and was she able to drink it, but Death had merely shook her head and muttered something about “stupid humans and their perception.” 

It wasn’t like she was not hurting. She was. Oh, she so desperately was hurting. She felt every century she had lived through, every year she had spent talking to no one but unimportant people and Death, every year her Stone rested in the Void, untouched, because she couldn’t bear anymore how her friends weren’t changing and she had changed very, very much. 

They were still the same. Wherever they went, when she didn’t summon them, nothing really happened. They were still imprints of what they had been in life, and they couldn’t really learn. Oh, they could remember things, of course. They kept track somehow, and they knew some of her story and didn’t forget. Which was of course better than some of the ghosts at Hogwarts had been able to do, she remembered. Some of them were so distant from the living world that they had even forgotten which century they were in. 

Acidly, she thought that she had to keep track of things in a heavily warded, leather notebook she kept on her every moment. Everytime something important happened to her - whether she had met Tom or her other self or had had to jump back in time. 

Maybe she was the one that wasn’t connected to reality at all. 

But her friends felt lost to her and even though she had gathered that they were able to watch their fallen brothers through what she imagined was a giant TV in the sky, thanks to her religious upringing, the last time she had spoken to them, they didn’t seem to care that much. 

Which was, she thought, fair. She was the one playing the most dangerous games with the most dangerous man, and they were dead. 

Sometimes she cursed the fact that she had the Hallows and wished she could be just like them, careless. 

The loneliness was atrocious and she felt every day the loss of them, the loss of anyone valuable to her. She felt so old, and she almost regretted not taking him on on his offer, because at least she would have had someone to talk to, someone who could understand.

What kept her going was, of course, to prevent Hades from destroying everything, but also the fact that she was able to discover everything she could about magic. It was a bit like having a Time-Turner, but much, much better. At least, she thought while playing with colours on her walls idly with her wand, it didn’t drive her to complete exhaustion and irritability, along with weight loss. 

“You’re wallowing,” a crisp voice said next to her. 

Hermione didn’t even jump. “Don’t you have a job?” she asked without turning to her right, where the voice was coming from. 

“I do, thank you, but I also can jump in time. And you’re wallowing.” 

“I am not,” Hermione said, her voice distant. “And I am your mistress and I can tell you to bugger off if I want to.” 

“It did not work in the last seven centuries, did it?” 

“I guess not,” Hermione sighed. They stayed in companionable silence for a few minutes. 

“What is the matter?” Death asked eventually. 

Hermione turned her head to her Servant and smiled. “The usual.” 

“You’re bored,” Death said resolutely. “You need to do something. I haven’t seen you so idle since decades.”

Hermione shrugged and rested her head back on her soft pillow. 

“You could pursue the topic of Idunn’s Apples,” Death suggested. 

Hermione let out a laugh. “Oh, I almost forgot about that. Do you think he has them yet?” 

If Death had had eyebrows to frown, Hermione knew she would have. 

“The point of chasing some legendary magical artifact or comestible is to distract you from that man,” Death said scornfully. 

“Oh, love,” Hermione said, patting Death’s skeletal hand in a familiar way, “everything is and will always be about that man.” 

Outside the bedroom where their Mistress had been resting for most of the day, Bessie shook her head and looked at her best friend and coworker, Mary. 

“She’s talking to herself again,” Bessie muttered through pinched, worried lips. She seemed to hesitate for a few minutes, and then, stopping dusting for a second, said in a quick whisper, “d’you reckon she’s, you know, a bit touched in the head?” 

Mary smiled and shrugged, rolling back the carpet on the wooden floor. “She could be as mad as a hatter, for all I care. She pays well, that’s what I’m happy about.” 

The overpaid maids nodded to themselves and resumed cleaning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review if you liked it!


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